Page 33 of You Rock My World
Something in Dorian’s expression shifts, vulnerability flickering in his piercing eyes. “What if I wanted to learn all of that about you, Josie?”
Yearning wars with the stark reality of our situation. “I’m working for you now, Dorian. Even if I was willing to overlook the other risks, I can’t date you. My boss made it clear that if I so much as look at you with anything other than total professional detachment, she’ll fire me.”
Dorian sighs heavily, regret evident in the set of his jaw. “Is it too late to request working with someone else?”
“Yes, it would make me look terrible.”
He runs a hand through his dark locks, his gaze meeting mine with a rueful intensity. “Then I’m changing my original answer. My biggest regret is requesting you to be on my PR account.”
I stare at him, confused. “Why did you approach me this way? You could’ve asked me out like a normal person.”
His response is a frustrated, “I wasn’t sure how you’d react. When you saw me at that party, you avoided me.”
“Because I thought you were married,” I protest, my hands flailing.
“I didn’t know that was the only reason,” he counters earnestly. “You were on a date. It was a month ago. You could be in a relationship by now. What if you were no longer single?”
“Would you still have wanted to work with me if I wasn’t single?” I ask on impulse.
Dorian’s answer is immediate. “Yes, because I trust you, and I don’t trust people easily.”
I absorb his last words. He trusts me. That means something. Maybe more than I’m willing to admit right now.
“What was your big plan, then, having us work together?”
Dorian studies me like he’s deciding how much to reveal. “The plan was to show you that my life, while not normal, is manageable. That I’m not too out of reach. I thought that it’d be for a shorter period and temporary, and that… I don’t know, signing a module with HR would be enough if something happened between us…” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “If I managed to woo you a little in the process.”
Woo me. The phrase is so old-fashioned and charming that it makes my heart do an uncomfortable flip. I stare at the distant horizon as I bare even more of my soul. “You don’t need to woo me, Dorian, consider me thoroughly wooed.”
Dorian raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into that familiar, teasing smile. “Well, that was easier than I thought. Here I was, ready to pull out all the stops.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“Sorry.” He pretend-zips his mouth. “I can’t reveal all my moves, I might still need to use some.”
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I can’t resist asking, “When was the last time you even dated someone normal? You know, after Sandy Who-Didn’t-Let-You-Go-To-Third-Base Parker?”
Dorian laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can’t believe you remember the name of my high-school girlfriend.”
I lock eyes with him. “I remember everything.”
He nods, serious again. “Post-Sandy, it was mostly celebrities. Not because I’m a snob, it’s more that I don’t run into non-famous people that often.” Dorian reaches for my hand again, tracing a distracting pattern on my palm with his thumb. “What matters now is whether you’d be willing to risk the fallout, the fans, the tabloids, and everything else you mentioned that night, to date me.”
Frustration bubbles inside me, and I pull my hand away, breaking our contact. “Even if I could manage all that, I can’t risk my job, Dorian. I’m not a gazillionaire. My savings are almost non-existent and I have rent to pay, student loans.” I swing a hand at the mansion surrounding us. “I know it must seem peanuts to you. But I can’t put everything on the line for something that won’t last.”
“Ah.” His eyes flash. “Your statistics about celebrity relationships.”
I pin him down with a pointed look. “Tell me they aren’t accurate.”
Dorian considers my words carefully. “Fair enough. But don’t write us off on principle. I hear you, I know this isn’t just about feelings. You’ve got real risks, real consequences, and I’d never ask you to gamble everything just because I can afford to.” Then, in a gesture that is confident yet careful, as if testing the boundaries between us, he takes my hand again and presses a soft kiss to the palm. “How about this?” he proposes, his words unadorned, simple, genuine. “We’re going to be around each other a lot until Missy comes back. We can get to know each other outside of the balloon ride, see if it’s still real. You can get a behind-the-scenes peek at what my life is really like: the security, the paparazzi, the crazed fans, everything. And then you can decide if it’s too much for you.”
I bite my lip, considering his offer. “And then what? Where does that road lead? To me quitting my job and becoming a full-time groupie?”
Dorian doesn’t flinch at my blunt question. Instead, he holds my gaze steadily, his eyes filled with a determined intensity that feels like a tether, binding us. “I can’t quit being famous, Josie. Even if I wrote no more music, I can’t control my fame.” He speaks matter-of-factly, stating a reality, not using excuses. “But my commitment to you? That’s something I can control. I can do fewer concerts, fewer tours after I finish this one.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles as he collects his thoughts. “If this thing between us is real, Josie, it could be more important than a job. You could move to a different PR firm. Or I’ll simply go back to Missy when she returns and then your conflict will be gone.”
“She won’t be back for another ten months, a year most likely,” I point out, wanting to be realistic despite the sensation that I might burst into confetti at any second.
Dorian smiles then, a sweet, open smile that has my heart tripping over itself. “Plenty of time to discover more about each other.”
